


Before You Go

by hurricxneamelia



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, F/F, Gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:54:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22638784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurricxneamelia/pseuds/hurricxneamelia
Summary: Anna nods, “They’re all my design. I have to. What is it you do?”Delilah’s eyes widen a bit, affronted at how forthright Anna is, “Well, if you must know, magic.”“Well, I’d find out sooner or later considering I’ll be marrying you,” Anna snorts.“It’s rather ridiculous, isn’t it?” Delilah muses, her face finally moving from its stoic line into a brief smile. “We came here for an alliance, and instead I’m apparently getting a wife, though I do suppose that is one form of alliance.”
Relationships: Delilah Briarwood/Anna Ripley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Before You Go

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my obligatory arranged marriage AU with Anna/Delilah, incorporating several prompts I found on Tumblr. No trigger warnings that I'm aware of apply.

The sounds of violins and cellos float through the cavernous ballroom and meld with the sounds of the denizen’s voices chattering into a harmonious cacophony of sound. Candles are magically suspended high above everyone’s heads casting an immense warm glow on human flesh and the darkness bleeding in the windows fades into the borders of the room where several guards stand watch. Guests at the ball wear fine clothing: dresses made of expensive silks and velvets and suits of the finest materials around. This is the most formal of occasions, a signification of a new alliance. 

In one corner of the room, standing in the center of a circle of people stands a young woman. She wears a black velvet gown with tight three quarter length sleeves and a low neckline, leading directly to feature the corseted bodice of the dress detailed with crimson lace. Her hair in a half up half down style, curled, and framing her delicate face as she laughs and smiles, her dark green eyes lighting up and her wine painted lips curving up into a smile. The woman is Delilah Briarwood, the young princess of the Menagerie Coast, here in Xhorhas. 

The people who stand beside her are enraptured by what the young woman says and by how she looks, their eyes follow her every move and hang onto her every word. When another woman taps the princess on the shoulder and leans over to say, “You are needed.” Those who hear the other speak frown. 

As does Delilah, “I apologise,” she addresses the circle to which she is speaking, “but I’ll be back as soon as possible, if you’ll excuse me.” With a short nod she turns away and toward the other woman who has already begun to walk away. 

Delilah follows with a sigh and in the hallway she speaks, “What’s the rush mother? I was having a good time, and like you said before, it’s not like you need a nineteen year old in a meeting like this. People like talking to me and I like talking to them, and their wine here is so lovely, so this had better be good,” she complains petulantly, the composed woman she was moments before dissolved into her youth ever so slightly. 

“Well, you’ll find out soon enough, but we’ve been round and round all night on terms and we’ve finally come to an agreement, the terms of our alliance,” Delilah’s mother answer’s with a sigh, stopping in the hall briefly to face her daughter.

“Okay? That’s splendid then, but why did you pull me out of the party? And where are we headed?” Delilah glances around the hallway. It is not a main hallway, but one leading out. 

-

Faint notes of music drift into the well lit workshop, but the sounds of metal scratching on metal override any of the traditional music in favour of their own discordant music. Grimy, thin fingers dance across the surface of metal parts, fitting and unfitting parts of experimental weaponry of her own design with the concentration of a doctor. She pays no mind to stray hairs finding their way out from the braid of thick black hair down her back as she works, and she pays no mind to any noises from the ball. 

Anna Ripley only jerks her head up when the door to her workshop slams open. Her father. “Anna!” He looks her over. “Gods, you look dreadfully unpresentable!”

“Why does that matter?” she asks dryly, hunching back over her work. 

“You’re about to meet your future wife.”

Anna nearly drops the fragile part between her fingers. “What the fuck. Come again? My wife?” 

Her father nods, “Yes, your wife! In our talks of alliance, with Menagerie, marriage was the most sure way to gain their support, and they happen to have a daughter around your age!” He smiles at the prospect, seemingly pleased with himself.

“And you think I’m going to marry someone just because you say I have to?” Anna challenges, still reeling from this new bit of information.

Her father’s smile disappears, “Yes. You will. It is at the cost of an alliance for a coming war. Now, put on your coat at least. She’s coming to meet you soon.” With a begrudging sigh and glare in his direction, Anna pulls on the grey double breasted waistcoat embroidered with gold that’s been laying in a chair and her father stares until she buttons it and takes a rag to her face and hands to get the dirt and oil off of her face. 

It’s a matter of moments before the exterior door to her workshop opens and in comes an older woman wearing a red and gold dress and behind her is a shorter, younger woman, around Anna’s age, presumably her bride, wearing a black and red dress. And fuck, she’s hot, at least there’s that much. The dress she’s wearing accentuates her waist in just a way Anna can’t articulate and the neckline is low enough for Anna to (admittedly) get a good view of her chest. Her facial features are small, except for her eyes. Those are a big deep green and her delicate lips are stained a wine red. 

“This is Delilah,” her father begins to introduce, “and this is my daughter Anna.” The two stand in stunned silence for a moment, regarding each other. Delilah observes Anna.

It still hasn’t sunk in that she’s supposed to marry her. On a surface level, she’s pretty enough. Anna has a hard jawline and stormy grey eyes with long black hair. “I’m supposed to marry you?” Delilah finally asks.

“Seems that way,” Anna responds, meeting the other’s eyes as they speak for the first time. 

“Hm,” the other responds, seemingly more to herself as she glances around Anna’s workshop. Anna wants to pick up her pieces of weaponry and stray parts lying around, suddenly.

“Well, we’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Anna’s father speaks up. 

“What I-” before Anna can finish her sentence, the other man and woman in the room have linked arms and turned abruptly out. Then, she’s left with her bride-to-be. She really is breathtaking, with her dark blackish red hair that Anna could admire for days, but that’s a long way from what this woman is supposed to be. 

“So… you build all of this stuff, yes?” Delilah asks after an insufferably long pause. 

Anna nods, “They’re all my design. I have to. What is it you do?”

Delilah’s eyes widen a bit, affronted at how forthright Anna is, “Well, if you must know, magic.”

“Well, I’d find out sooner or later considering I’ll be marrying you,” Anna snorts.

“It’s rather ridiculous, isn’t it?” Delilah muses, her face finally moving from its stoic line into a brief smile. “We came here for an alliance, and instead I’m apparently getting a wife, though I do suppose that is one form of alliance.”

“That it is,” Anna shakes her head, removing her waist coat once more and taking a seat. “Feel free to sit anywhere, I guess.” She bites her tongue as a snarky comment about Delilah’s decadent dress almost leaves her mouth. “So you didn’t know anything about this?” she finally decides as Delilah takes what looks like an uncomfortable seat half sitting on one of her saw benches. 

“No. I came here expecting a few balls and diplomatic events and then a trip back home, did you know anything?” the princess questions throwing Anna’s own question back onto her. 

“Not a damn thing.” 

It is arranged that night that Delilah will stay with Anna’s family during their technical courtship, an arrangement both young women simultaneously dread but wonder about. 

Progress is slow between the two. It starts with simple questions and simple walks, and they both spend the large majority of their time isolated with books or guns respectively, but as the walking and talking becomes longer, the times in isolation become less. Anna even once braves to ask Delilah to teach her some basic magic. 

And it is when Anna nearly hits her father with arcane fire that the two can barely contain their laughter. It’s moments like these that began to add up. Public appearances are few and far in between, and short. They don’t brave balls or events, especially as they’re engagement isn’t official. They do however, when Delilah’s birthday comes around. 

Her family comes back up, and a grand festivity is thrown. Anna’s wearing a stiff outfit that she hates, but she’s willing to do it for Delilah’s birthday. The party is lit with floating candles once more, but this time they glow with purple at Delilah’s request, so the room is covered in a purple haze. 

Anna stands, holding Delilah’s hand, in a corner, amongst what she would describe as ‘stick-up-their-asses academics’ but Delilah is deep in a conversation about the semantics of some necromantic spell that admittedly goes over Anna’s head. She understands the basics, but when they begin to bring up composition and other detailed mechanics, her mind drifts, to the moments that have led to this one. 

Delilah is beginning to be something. She can’t and won’t define it as love yet, she’s far too practical for that, but she’s something more than a woman who was forced into Anna’s life. She’s a friend for sure, a confidant even, and she’s gorgeous. They’ve shared kisses and lounged together, but nothing more, and those kisses have been quick and nonlingering. 

Anna’s mind is suddenly pulled back into reality as Delilah’s hand lets go of her own for the first time that night. Suddenly, her palm is colder than she feels it should be, and her fiancee’s hand is on the shoulder of one of the mage’s in the circle. This mage is a tall person with a half shaved head and dressed in a suit. They aren’t unattractive, and Anna frowns at that fact. Delilah moves, laughing, her hand staying on the person’s shoulder. She inches closer and closer to them. Her intoxicating laugh rising above the chatter of the ballroom. The other person responds accordingly, their body moving closer to Delilah, eyes clinging to her own decadent green ones. 

A pit begins to form in Anna’s stomach. She waits for Delilah’s hand to return to hers, but it doesn’t. She stays focused on the mage in question, and focused only on them. “Delilah, darling,” Anna interrupts briskly putting a hand on her elbow, “my father would like to speak to us I believe.” 

Delilah turns back, those wine red lips curled back into a smile Anna’s become so accustomed to staring at she’s forgotten how beautiful it is. “Oh, really?” she glances around, not automatically seeing Anna’s father. “Where is he?” 

“Hallway. He got my attention from across the room.” Anna bites back on her teeth, hard; the sound echos through her skull. She just wants to get Delilah away from this mage.

“Very well,” Delilah relents with a sigh, turning back to the mage, “We’ll have to talk to more later perhaps. It was so lovely to meet you.”

Even hearing her voice, the way Delilah says that, makes Anna tighten her grip on Delilah’s arm as she pulls her away. “Anna, no need to drag me,” Delilah huffs as Ripley turns away, hurrying across the ballroom, barely heeding those she runs into. Delilah mutters apologies to the ones she can and just as she and Anna make it out into the hallway and down the adjacent hall, Anna stops, facing Delilah. 

“What the fuck, Anna?” the woman crosses her arms.

Anna, instead of speaking, grabs Delilah’s face with both hands and pulls her down to kiss her, hard and quickly. “You’re mine. You will not look at anyone else.”

The wizard, never at a loss for words, finds that her mind is blank, from Anna’s force, her kiss, her words. Finally, she speaks, “I wasn’t ‘looking at anyone else.’ What the hell do you mean?” She crosses her arms.

“I saw that mage, that person to whom you were just speaking… they… they… they were looking at you, and I didn’t like it. You were looking at them too, and you will not. You’re my fiancee. Not anyone else’s,” Anna says, meeting Delilah’s eyes intently. 

The other woman’s mind is spinning. She wasn’t looking at that mage, but arguing the point is futile. Besides, Anna nearly pinning her against a wall, hands on her face, grey eyes piercing into her own, may be one of the hottest sights Delilah has ever seen. So, she pulls Anna back toward her until their lips collide again, this time for longer. Delilah tastes the wine on Anna’s lips, and finally fully feels the slightly chapped lips against her own move in heated reciprocity. When Delilah finally pulls away, she glances at Anna, “I hope you meant it.”

The tinkerer gives a devilish grin, “Oh, I did, you’re mine. And you know, I don’t see the need for us to return to the party do you?”

“But it is my own birthday celebration,” Delilah coyly raises an eyebrow.

“All the more reason for us not to return then. If we’re on the same page, I can give you a better present than anyone in there ever could,” Anna quips back.

“That’s confident,” she remarks.

“Let me prove it to you.”

With one last glance back toward the party Delilah turns back to Anna, her own lips drawn into a smirk, “Shall we then?”

Just as personal life moves forward, so does the political. As Anna and Delilah begin to draw closer, a war seems to also be drawing closer. Anna is called away to meetings about her weaponry and military tactics more often than not, and Delilah is fully aware of the political tensions mounting. There’s no way there won’t be a war. So, with each passing days, their parents talk of pushing their wedding closer. 

There’s no real issue that Anna or Delilah has with pushing their wedding forward, other than the implications. The only trouble between the couple is defining feelings. Anna and Delilah are sure their feelings are growing toward something akin to love. Both dance around the feelings, and the prospect of discussing it for fear of ruining whatever it is that is growing. 

Delilah only regards Anna’s dryness and obstinance with love and endearence now; it is a trait which falters so seldomly, but everything has a breaking point. It is nights before their wedding when Anna returns from a war council meeting, her face desolate and emotionless, in shock. 

Delilah glances up from the armchair in Anna’s room where she sits reading, “Anna?”

The other woman’s eyes momentarily light up, “Delilah.” The assertion in her voice is gone. 

“What happened?” Delilah asks immediately putting her book aside and standing to meet Anna as she shuts the door. No response, only Anna refusing to meet her eyes. “Anna, what is it?”

“Delilah, I-” she cuts herself off with a sigh, staring at a spot on the wall behind her. She still can’t meet the woman’s eyes.

“I’m getting worried, love, what is it?” She says with a light laugh, taking Anna’s hands. 

Anna gently squeezes Delilah’s hands, “I’m not sure how to say this.”

“Just say it. You’re never at a loss for words,” Delilah quips in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

A small smile flickers across Anna’s face, “Well, I think now I am. I-” she stops again, taking a deep breath. “The war council has drafted an official declaration of war. To be put in action nearly immediately. And I am to be sent out to the front lines.”

Delilah’s face falls, “No. No. You can’t we’re marrying.”

“No. After. I’m going after.” 

“You have to convince them otherwise,” Delilah’s voice is beginning to shake with the characteristic quiver of anxiety. “I know this is what you wanted, with your weapons, but, this, this can’t happen. Besides, your royal, shouldn’t you be an officer.” 

“I am,” Anna responds. “But I still have to fight. And I may have wanted this before, but now that it’s here I don’t want any of it.” 

For the first time, Delilah hears fear in Anna’s voice. She hears the reticence and the heavy ball in her stomach grows in mass as she fights her tears. “You can’t go.”

“I have to.” 

“Why?” Delilah asks, her voice thick. Anna still hasn’t been able to meet her eyes.

“Because it is what I’m called to do,” Anna’s fighting back her own torrent of emotions.

“What about us?” On the ‘us’ Delilah’s voice cracks. 

“We’ll be okay,” Anna responds, for the first time her voice wavering. 

The waver is what snaps something in Delilah. She has to let go of Anna’s hands to cover her mouth and hold back the sobs that threaten to spill. To no avail, her emotions win the fight with composure. 

She sinks to her knees, as full bodied sobs begin to overtake her. This is real. It’s finally real, and actually happening. For months she’s ignored the realities of war. Of course she’s known, but she forced herself to believe it was all a strange fever dream that would end. She wants to live with Anna and grow with her. This marriage didn’t start out as one of feeling, but now it is, and war suspends that absolute. Anna could die. She could die.

A knot of deep despair curls in Delilah’s chest as she sobs. She shouldn’t be like this. She isn’t the one headed off, but here she is. There’s a volatile part of her that almost offers to go with Anna, but she's meant to stay and rule this kingdom. It’s what she’s trained to do. 

Anna kneels beside Delilah as her beloved sobs into her hands trying to stifle it, but the sounds of gut wrenching cries cannot be stifled. Tears begin to fall down her own cheeks and Anna has to bite her own lip back for a moment to make sure she has control of her emotions. 

She isn’t sure what Delilah needs in this moment. She needs Anna, and Anna knows that much, but what exactly? Reassurance? Physical comfort? Emotions have never been her strong suit.

In the silence (save for Delilah’s sobs), Anna’s heart palpates and withers simultaneously. “You- you can’t leave me,” Delilah finally heaves out, letting go of her own face so she can wrap her arms around Anna. Seeing those eyes that Anna knows hold so much knowledge and love, flicker with the pain of loss, makes her own chest get tighter. 

“I-” she stops and takes a deep breath. “I have to, but we’ll be okay. I don’t know how, but we will.” She hates not knowing. “I know it may not seem like it now, but I will take care of you, of us. I love you.” 

The declaration hangs heavy in the air. The first time either uttered ‘love’ had to be in a situation like this. Their lives are filled with the uncertainties of war, political instability, and fear. Neither, without push would take the first step, but most surprisingly, it had been Anna who did. 

Delilah goes silent for a moment against Anna’s chest. Her sobs even cease for the moment as those words sink it. “R-really?” comes the unsure voice of the wizard. 

“Yes.” Anna’s voice is just as uncertain, but not about her love, about her future. This was never supposed to be, but she can’t lose what she’s found. 

“I love you too,” Delilah responds, her voice shaking again as her arms tighten around Anna. She heaves in a breath, “We’ll make the most of this, after all. What else can we do?”

And they do. In the next few days, both women are inseparable and as tactile as ever. Their royally gorgeous wedding is an ironic event of the war-preparing nation. But one filled with joy and light. Anna’s given two days afterward and both can feel the dread growing in their stomachs. 

“I love you,” Delilah whispers into Anna’s ear as they hold each other. The day has come and Delilah won’t let go of the woman she loves.

“I love you too,” Anna’s voice is soft; it is the voice she reserves only for Delilah. She pulls back from the hug. “But my time to leave has unfortunately come.” She sounds like Anna again. 

“Take care of yourself,” Delilah offers a weak smile. 

“And you, my darling,” Anna leans in to claim one last kiss, and with a last smile she turns toward her transportation to the lines.


End file.
